


a world, we make.

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableism, Adorable Wanda Maximoff, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Autistic Wanda Maximoff, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon Autistic Character, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Natasha Romanov, Useless Lesbians, meltdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 09:43:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: natasha loves wanda, and wanda loves natasha, but the world doesn't love them.





	a world, we make.

**Author's Note:**

> none of this makes any sense but i tried my best skdkfj this was just very self indulgent.

Simply put, Wanda Maximoff was an honest girl. 

There was no malice to her honesty, nothing brutal and nothing there to hurt you. Her honesty was soft, pure, and it was Wanda’s own way of looking out for those she cared about. And Natasha Romanov wished with every single cell in her body that more people understood this, sought out such gentle truths that it opened their eyes just a little bit wider. That girl’s unique candor deserved to felt everywhere, because Natasha was certain it could change the world.

The world did not respond kindly to such honesty, however.

Natasha garnered many stares for associating with the girl, which Wanda had pointed out on a few occasions with a curious glance and a fragile sort of defensiveness that had made her heart ache. Natasha, flamboyantly and shamelessly, did not care. It didn’t matter to her that other people thought of the girl as strange, and who gives a fuck about reputations anyways? She knew she didn’t, and neither did Wanda. They were happy, content, in their each other’s companionship and it was just enough to get them by. 

She knew there were things that hurt the other girl that she pretended not to notice; but Wanda isn’t a liar, and Natasha’s learned to read her face as quick as she would a text. It’s not like Wanda could just _stop _noticing, no. That girl never stops observing everything twice over, you couldn’t just turn that part of her off. Nat kind of adored how she saw the world, and lived for the little commentary she didn’t realise the other girl could hear. Wanda took everything in with such a moving passion that the judging stares, the degrading catcalls and derogatory slurs affected her more than she’d rather let on and Natasha just wished the world would _shut the fuck up _, sometimes. 

There was a lot going on in their world, but that was exactly the point. The world was theirs; theirs alone, forever. 

**࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ**

“Have you ever wondered what happened to rebellious teenagers in the 1950’s? Do you think they’re still rebellious in their old age, or do you think you the world got too recalcitrant for them?” 

The soft buzz of conversation filled the hall, and the sprawled bodies of many tired, caffeine-driven teenagers were spread all amongst it. There was a kid having a nap under the bleachers, and a group of boys were trying to gingerly poke him awake with a ruler. 

Natasha swished the coffee in her absurdly large thermos and thought for a moment. “Tell me what the fuck recalcitrant means, and I might have an answer.” She wore a playful smile.

Wanda looked down at her palms and murmured something to herself before looking back up at her girlfriend and promptly replying with “Recalcitrant is an adjective to describe disobedient and unruly people.” 

Natasha raised her brows, and leant back on her shoulders. She was leaning over a tiny table that was tucked neatly in the corner of the study hall, a table she’d claimed as hers and Wanda’s only. With the exception of Steve Rogers (and maybe his emo-looking boyfriend, Bucky), whoever else sat there got kicked in the shins and their homework burnt. Steve had told her that at times this was harsh, but Natasha didn’t really give a fuck anymore. 

“Well, it would depend on how you define ‘rebellious’ in the 50’s, wouldn’t it?” she quipped, looking to test the other girl. Wanda nodded, her head now rested on her hand. A pink mark was beginning to flower where her cheek met her palm, and her eyes were downcast in thought.

“It really does. But like, think of old ladies knitting for their grandkids. Would they have been the kids who stayed out past curfew to go dancing?” she asked, with the most Wanda-like sparkle in her eyes. And she was so cute, unbelievably so. Okay, so Natasha was whipped, sue her; in all honesty, who wouldn’t be when they had the literal sun as their girlfriend? 

“Can I be honest and say I have no clue?” Natasha smiled, but it dropped slightly when she looked down and caught sight of the outlined points for her English essay. It had been easy to forget about, amongst the banter of the study hall.

“You’re valid.” Wanda replied simply, and that was the end of that, because she too had her own work to finish. She was a lot more proficient and productive than Natasha could ever dream to be, but still, she had to at least_ try _to keep up. 

**࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ**

Something was wrong. Natasha could tell, from a mile away. The small trembling of Wanda's lips, the slightly shaky way she reached for Natasha's hand when the lunch bell rang, and her eyes, dark and narrowed. Anxiety gnawed at her insides in the way they always did when she was left in the dark. Wanda hadn't spoken to her, minus the little "Can we get out of here?" she had murmured, ten seconds after she'd stepped out of her class. She'd been waiting outside the door, biting her nails, and Natasha knew better than to ask why in their current environment.

Wanda moved quickly, clumsily, dragging Natasha along by her wrist as she weaved her way in and out of the crowds of people in the hallway. She had a tight yet undomineering grip on her, and didn't look back at her once until they reached one of the school's exits. Wanda had been quiet, too. That in itself wasn't exactly unusual; she had always been a soft-spoken, introverted person. But this was different, not like all the times they'd let a comfortable, homely silence fill the gaps between them. No, this was one of the silences that left Natasha on edge. She wondered, as the girl in front of her tightened her grip on her wrist, if she was close to shutting down. That made her worry even more, thoughts whirling around her brain, like scattered and half-coherent snippets of conversations you weren't supposed to hear.

_Did something happen? Did somebody do something? Who was it? What do I do?_

They ended up in a nearby park, one they'd visited many times before. It was mostly empty, with only a mother and her toddler hanging by the playground a good length away from their spot underneath the oak tree. _Their_ oak tree. Wanda and Natasha had spent so much time together, simply lounging underneath the shade of the large tree, that they'd ended up carving their initials somewhere along its rough trunk. Maybe it was cheesy, but it made Natasha's heart flutter, and if she were still a kid, she'd probably call that feeling butterflies.

But now wasn't the time, because Wanda's breathing was erratic and head was tucked tightly into her knees. Her fingers were tugging madly at her long hair, twisting the strands like they were the cords of one of her many stim toys. Dumbly, Natasha wondered if she still had that old fidget cube of hers lying unused in her bag. 

She reached out, fingertips just grazing her girlfriend's shoulder, and she could feel her stiffen under her touch. Natasha drew her hand back, and resorted to gripping the straps of Wanda's backpack so tightly she was sure her knuckles had turned white. Her hands were only shaking a little.

"What's wrong, love?" her tone was soft, drawn out in a way that only Wanda could bring. She had told her once that she felt lucky she got to see that side of Natasha Romanoff, bad ass dyke supreme, and she distinctly remembers kissing the girl's palm in response. 

Wanda was shivering slightly, from the anxiety. Slowly but surely, she lifted her head from her knees and looked at Natasha strangely, like she was unsure how to tell her something. She looked confused and exhausted all at once. 

"Do you think I'm a freak, Natasha?" 

The question was sudden, and it startled her. Wanda's voice was frighteningly calm considering her body language and the stunt they both just pulled. Her voice sounded stripped from emotion yet full of it at the same time. Upon hearing the words leave her mouth, Natasha froze, a terrible feeling starting burn through her facade. It was a simple question, but it made her want to cry, and just hold Wanda tightly enough to let them both forget.

But that might come later. It wasn't what either of them needed right now.

Wanda stared at her, eyes glassy and full of something Natasha couldn't describe. It made her just _ache_, a dull sort of pain weighing down on her chest, above her heart. She rationalised it as an over-exaggeration, at the time, but she knew it wasn't. That's genuinely how it all felt. It didn't get easier, seeing Wanda shut down because of all the hatred hurled her way.

And nobody cared. Nobody listened, nobody reached out. And that formed such an intense, blinding ball of anger inside of Natasha that she would have screamed.

There was a long pause between them, hanging in the air thick and emotional. She took a deep breath, and looked at the girl before her, who was picking at her laces, despite having shaking hands. She knew she had to speak, but God, she wished she didn't have to. She wished, selfishly and childishly, that they had some sort of... supernatural mental link that let Wanda know all of the things Natasha was feeling but didn't know how to put into words. It was Wanda who had a way with words and emotions, not her. 

"You're not a freak," she whispered, voice gentle. "And if you were, then I'd want to be a freak too."

She wondered briefly afterwards if that made any sense, but that thought vanished as soon as she felt Wanda's cold hands graze her own. Without really thinking, Natasha held onto her hands tightly, almost like she was scared the girl would disappear if she let go. She had the other girl let out a soft chuckle before a light sniffle, and then a sob. She just held on tighter. 

**࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ  
**

Wanda called her later that night. She apologised, profusely, like she always does. And Natasha reassured her it was okay, like she always does. They talked for a while longer, mostly about school and if Natasha had finished _that damn English essay_. She had laughed, genuinely, for little moment and that set Wanda off. 20 minutes of straight up giggles ensued on both ends, and they babbled til their tongues were tied. Natasha could just about see Wanda's cherry-red, laughing face as they chatted through the phone. The image in her brain made her smile, as almost all her other thoughts of Wanda did.

She realised, later on, as she was trying to fall asleep (and failing miserably at just that), how deeply she was in love with that girl.

It sounds cheesy, and stupid, because she's so young, but she's never the felt the things she feels with Wanda with another person. It sounds dramatic, and like she's being dumb, but it's true, so very true. They've told each other they love each other before obviously, but it felt different now. Natasha was in love with her way before all of this, but she fell even harder in this very moment.

But that realisation stung. It hit her like a slap in the face. She knew what it could mean, and she knew it'd test all the things she's never let anybody break. It hurts. 

But it always does, does it not?


End file.
